Jump Over Blood
by SidSH
Summary: When sixteen year old Jillian transfers from Erudite to Dauntless, old wounds are reopened and old fears are faced. Erudite do not make up their accusations from nowhere, and Tobias is not the only one with an abusive father. Four/Tris OC/OC


**A/N: Hello to the readers of this :) So I am SidSH, or 'Sid', and I am relatively new to fanfiction (and an amateur to writing in general) so please tell me if I do anything wrong. I've recently finished reading 'Divergent' by Veronica Roth and I had a couple of things that I wanted to write about this world that she created... so here it is.**

**I am a fan of Four/Tris so to anyone who's wondering, no, this is not a Four/OC story. It will be OC/OC. A****lso I haven't read Insurgent, so for the convenience of this fanfiction, 'the war never happened'.**

**Happy reading! :)**

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Divergent series and do not profit from this. Veronica Roth is the author of this trilogy and I am only a person who is writing fanfiction on the world that _she_ created. You should not take the content of this seriously, since I may get information wrong and am only writing this for enjoyment.**

* * *

**Chapter 1**

The wall between my parents' bedroom and my own is thin enough for me to hear the creaking of their bed at night. It is also clear enough for me to know the exact motions they are going through when I hear the the squeak of slippers on wood, or the running of the tap. That should be a good thing, but I know it is the same for them; the slightest sound I make can send them into a such a torrent of hypotheses and interrogations that I have long learnt to simply accept it. Not even nighttime, under their suffocating surveillance, can provide me the privacy I desire.

My bedroom is organized in columns so neat it is impossible to hide anything in the spaces between. I know it is because my dad, as a naturally suspicious person, does not trust me. I can almost understand that - one wrong word, and I could easily send his carefully constructed facade crashing.

_Tap. _I hear the footsteps before the knocks come, breaking the silence, and I know from the feather-lightness that it is not my dad. It is only seven, and he won't be home until ten-thirty. "Jillian." my mother's whispering floats through from the other side, as clearly as if it was projected through a microphone. I open the first book I can see on my desk.

At night my room is quiet, almost eerily quiet. This is before he comes home, of course - once he comes home, I can hear his booming footsteps from two floors above. Although the walls between the bedrooms are thin, the wall that separates the house from the lawn does a perfectly good job of stopping sound. No one outside can know what happens inside, and sometimes on the days when he is the worst, I am almost tempted to let something slip. But I am afraid of the repercussions that I know will follow.

The chirp of a bird startles me - I had forgotten to close the window. Marla steps in and from her furrowed eyebrows, I know what's coming next. I lean back slightly.

"Jillian." she says, closing the door behind her. My mother is small, with curled auburn hair and blue glasses perched on top of her small nose. "You know that tomorrow's the aptitude test."

It's what I've been waiting for the past sixteen years. I look at my mother, my jaw set. "I don't care what it tells me, I'm not going to stay here."

Marla gives me a look and walks over to the window. She looks down for a moment, then closes it for me and draws the curtains together. I know my mother has my father's work schedule memorized, but she likes to be sure. "Your father's not home."

"He doesn't come home until ten-thirty." I glare at her, lifting my head. She's so short her shoulders are level with my eyes when I'm sitting. "And I don't care. I'm leaving the day after tomorrow."

_What's the worst he can do to me in two days?_ I think, but I feel a lump forming in my throat and I know what he can do.

"You should care." Marla leans against the desk. "Just because you will be out in the public doesn't mean that he can't and won't do something to you."

I know. Everything he's ever done to me, he's made sure that it was in a place that can be hidden under my school uniform. He's brutal, but he's careful - always doing enough to make me flinch, but not enough to make others suspect or send me to the hospital. I had not been to a hospital since I was four to get a shot, and been told to stay away from it to the point where I had almost come to fear it.

My stomach turns in disgust and I dig my nails into the book on my desk. "Why are you still with him?"

I know the answer to that, but I still feel my heart clench at the answer.

Marla knows that I know that she doesn't love him. "Mutual benefits. Plus, what would this faction think if we separated? It would be bad for both of our reputations, and people will talk."

Ever since long before I was born, my parents have built up a respectful reputation among the members of my faction. My parents, working as highly accomplished scientists for our government representative Jeanine Matthews, both have IQ points of well over 140 and a daughter supposedly well nurtured and educated throughout her teen years. This is what turns the heads of others in envy for, what my family is meant to be.

My throat closes and I force down a wince. "He doesn't do the same things to you that he does to me. He's afraid that you would leave him. You have full right to leave him and take me with you." I glare at her, accusingly, but she doesn't react. "If you don't like him and he doesn't like you, then why did you two have Meredith and I? To put up pretenses?"

Erudite is a lot of things but they are not stupid; they know very well that there is no such thing as perfection. Two years ago my sister Meredith left this faction to join Candor. She hasn't come to visit since. A small hint of betrayal writhes in my stomach, but I know I would've done the same.

Erudite chalked it up to Meredith's own disobedience and stupidity, and showered my parents with sympathies. They removed her existence from the faction and Meredith stopped being my parents' child, stopped being my sister. Of course, to me Meredith is still my sister, but to the rest of Erudite, I was a single child.

If only the rest of Erudite were smarter.

Marla tenses, then grips my shoulders, tight, and I yank myself out of her grasp. She looks at me. "Don't be rash. Would you rather not be alive?"

"Better than being alive with him there." I look away, halfheartedly and wondering why I was even bothering with her, who I wouldn't expect to ever understand.

Marla shakes her head. "It's only sixteen years, Jillian."

I feel something, a fire, licking at my throat. "You're right." I say. "It's only sixteen years. That makes it all better, right? Sixteen years of abuse is nothing." My voice cracks on the word 'abuse'.

Marla blinks at me calmly. Then she sighs. "When you leave, just don't choose Abnegation. The controversy that follows you transferring into our enemy faction would be horribly messy."

I stare at Marla, something in me snapping. An icy feeling spreads through my body and I clench my fists so hard my nails leave an imprint on my palm. "I will choose whatever I want." I say, quietly. "And after I choose whatever I want, you can let them pity you and hate me, but I don't care, because I'll be out of this hellhole."

For an instant, I see an emotion - hurt - flash across Marla's face, but it's gone as quick as it came and she walks out of the room, calmly shutting the door. After I'm sure she's gone, I slam my arm down on the table and the papers, slipping from the paper clips, float to the floor. Papers on selflessness, on simplicity, on losing yourself scatters around my desk in a ring and I let my head drop into my hand.

I had wanted to choose Abnegation.

* * *

Extension mathematics consists only of Erudites - math classes are distributed by factions, so I do not see much of any other faction for the start of the day. I'm glad of it - I do not want to think about what faction to choose. Truthfully, any is fine - as long as I can escape Erudite.

Lunch comes before the aptitude tests. I have no appetite for food, though I am not jittery or nervous like many of the other sixteen-year olds in the room. As soon as lunch ends, the plates are collected and we return to the tables, sitting in alphabetical order.

I sit between Thomas Kent and Julia Kessler. They're both holding books, clenched in their hands, and I grimace. I doubt even if my family was perfectly fine that I would fit in here.

Looking around, I feel my gaze turn to the Abnegation table. Quiet and unassuming, they sit in their neat rows as a group and don't speak. I feel myself long to be part of that faction and wonder how anyone would want to transfer.

Someone nudges me accidentally and I quickly avert my eyes. I'm glad that I am not loud or noticeable, so no one asks me why I'm staring at what they call the Stiffs. The nickname came about three or four years ago from Erudite, and passed on to the other factions as a degrading term. I grimace slightly and turn my gaze to another table. I do not want to attract attention or cause controversy. I know I cannot choose Abnegation, however much I wanted to.

My gaze lands on the Dauntless, a group of people clad in black. They're laughing and speaking to one another, loudly. The Dauntless is our test administrator this year. I had hoped it would be Abnegation, as it was last year, but the relationship between Erudite and Abnegation had been steadily growing worse for the past year and Erudite no longer accept Abnegation test administrators. My nails dig into my palms and I let out a breath through clenched teeth.

Kevin, the person before Thomas is called and he walks into the testing room, shakily taking off his glasses. He shouldn't need to worry. I have him in most of my classes and though I doubt he knows who I am, he's definitely smart enough. Erudite enough. He'll pass the initiation and fit in perfectly fine.

My eyes dart back to the Abnegation table. I cannot choose Abnegation, and Erudite is out of the question. I wipe my hands against my pants and take a deep breath. I won't care about the test results, even if it tells me I belong in Erudite. I will leave.

A while later, five, or ten minutes, I feel a shift next to me as Kevin returns to his seat. I sit up straight and look at him. Kevin's face is pale, but he looks relieved and he sags into the bench. He got Erudite, for sure.

An Abnegation calls out the next round of names, pausing after Amity to announce the two Erudites. "Thomas Kent and Jillian Keir."

I cannot stop the jolt that goes through me when my name is called. Swallowing, I stand up with Thomas and we walk outside the cafeteria, stopping beside a row of normally unused rooms. Thomas looks at me and nods, then steps into his room. Confident. I release my clenched fists and walk into room 3.

My heart thumps even though I am not nervous. I am not prepared for this, and I am not meant to be marked on this. I am not capable of failing.

The room is covered by mirrors on all sides, and a glowing light comes off the ceiling. I don't look at my reflection, instead turning to my test administrator. I cannot fail.

She looks young, almost younger than me. Her face is narrow and her eyes are wide and gray. Her blond hair is straight and tucked behind her ears, and her small form is dressed comfortably in black. She barely looks thirteen, but definitely Dauntless.

I recognize her. Beatrice Prior, a girl who left Abnegation for Dauntless the year before. Her brother, Caleb Prior, transferred to Erudite. I recognized him from the initiates last year, wondering why he would leave Abnegation.

"Hi." she says. "My name is Tris. Have a seat."

I remembered the report on their family and the reason both her and her brother left. My stomach clenches painfully and I wonder, briefly, if Abnegation is really as safe as I thought. I look at Tris. She's pointing at the machine in the corner of the room, the stimulator that will test me. It was invented by an Erudite.

I sit down on it and rest my head back. I shouldn't be too curious.

"Just one thing." I mumble, unable to stop myself as Tris presses something to my forehead. I flinch and Tris stares at me briefly, in surprise.

"Yes?" She asks.

"The report last year, about the reason why you left." Tris tenses, her hand almost knocking over the second wire. A fire lights up in her eyes.

She opens her mouth to speak, but my voice comes out first. I try to stop myself from asking, but my body doesn't listen. "I'll believe whatever answer you give. Just... tell me one thing. Is it true?"

I swallow, feeling an urge to wince and look down, but I stop myself and look up at Tris. She is staring at me in the eyes, a vague emotion that I can't recognize on her face, and I doubted she would answer me about such a personal matter.

I feel the air grow awkward and contemplate breaking the gaze so she can continue assembling the wires. Then Tris shakes her head forcibly, and my eyes jump back to hers.

"Not at all." She says, her hands moving again. The next electrocute that she attaches knocks my head back and I bite back a laugh I didn't know why I was holding.

I nod slightly and stop speaking. A tattoo peeks out from Tris's shoulder, and I stare at it for a moment. A raven.

Tris works quietly on the wires. There is no small-talk, and I am glad of that - I don't like talking about myself. Once Tris is done, she walks to the other side of the room and comes back with something in her hand.

"Drink." Tris hands me a vial. I look it for a moment, in suspicion, then decide that I've bothered her enough and drink it.

Almost immediately, I feel my eyes get heavy. I recognize the liquid in the vial as a stimulation serum. It takes effort to look at Tris, and even more effort to open my mouth.

"Raven?" The word comes out in a slur, but Tris seems to understand me.

"It's a symbol of overcoming my fears." I hear her say faintly, and then I'm in a different place.

* * *

I open my eyes to the cafeteria where I had been waiting for my name to be called. There is no one except for me, and the tables are empty except for the two baskets on the tall table to my left. "Choose." A female voice says. I blink.

The voice belongs to Jeanine Matthews. Erudite representative.

I look into the baskets. A chunk of cheese and a knife. Depending on what I choose, I know that the two objects will have different purposes in the scenario that follows. This is how a stimulation serum works. I look around the cafeteria, looking for any hint of what is about to happen.

"Choose," the voice repeats.

I look down at the knife, then at the cheese. A different mood, a different approach. I am opposed to provoking violence for no good reason - but I am definitely not stupid enough to take the cheese before knowing what I need it for. And since I am under stimulation I am unable to die, I'd rather not make a stupid decision and regret it once I am out.

"No." I say. I point at the door in the corner of the cafeteria. "Not yet. What is behind that door?"

"Choose." the voice says, beginning to sound impatient.

This is my test, and I react how I want. "Not until I know what is behind that door."

"Choose!" The voice repeats one more time, audibly annoyed, and I wonder if the Jeanine Matthews in this stimulation can say anything other than that one word.

I do nothing but point at the door.

The voice is silent for a moment. Then the baskets disappear, and the door creaks open.

A growl is the first warning I get, and I hear it long before the dog emerges. I grit my teeth at the empty table where the baskets used to be, and for a moment I feel like punching the Erudite representative. Another growl, followed by the baring of teeth draws my attention back to the matter at hand, and I stop thinking about the Erudite representative for a second to think about my own survival. _Experience._ I stare at the animal. I am incapable of fighting it until it escapes, so I will have to be the one escaping.

I look around the cafeteria. Where can I reach that the dog can't?

The dog snarls at me. I back away, cold sweat beginning to bead at the back of my neck. A suffocating panic pushes its way to my throat, but I swallow it down.

_Come on. Don't be a wimp and _think._ You've faced your father before - you think a little puppy like that can scare you? It's not even a quarter of your height._

Height. I look at the dog. It's a large dog, but not huge. I can reach a height that it can't reach.

Backing away, I choose a table and give myself a short sprint to build momentum. Then I jump, feeling my muscles tense as I prepare myself to land on my feet.

_Thank god the cafeteria prefers high tables and I'm taller than average. _I think as I look down at the dog, jumping up at the table and snapping at the legs. The added weight of myself proves to be too heavy to push over and the dog finally gives up, crouching next to the platform with an agitated growl.

I almost manage a smile. That's it. I close my eyes and prepare for the second stimulation scene to appear, but feel my blood run cold when I hear a childlike laughter from the other side of the room. _No._ I open my eyes instantly.

The dog growls.

Run; run; run. The screams choke at my throat. The little girl doesn't budge. Her eyes light up in wonder and I watch, horrified. "Puppy!"

"Run!" I finally manage to scream. Desperately, I yank the shoe from my left foot and launch it towards the dog's head. The dog turns in confusion, and I don't wait for it to understand before I grab the girl.

There is a snarl and I shove the little girl behind me then turn around, other shoe in hand, but the cafeteria disappears below my feet and suddenly I'm back in the testing room.

Is the test over? I realize that I am shaking as I stare at the mirrors. Then I notice that the door is open and a sense of dread crawls in my stomach. _I'm still in stimulation. _I think as I step outside.

The cafeteria is no longer there, replaced rows of seats and handles. I am in a bus. I take a few steps further and hang onto a handle, wondering where I'm going.

A newspaper article catches my attention. "Brutal murderer finally apprehended." I murmur, feeling like I should be shocked, and the man holding the paper turns to stare at me. I force down a cringe at his snarling face, rivaling the dog's, and the scars decorating his cheekbones.

"Do you know this guy?" His hands shake as he points at the picture on the page, and I feel a tremor go through my body. I know this man on the newspaper. I know the things people are capable of, and I know how well a person can hide it. I won't tell anyone about my father that I will soon put behind in my new life and I will not speak a word about this murderer who is already paying for his actions - and I will not talk about them because of how my words will come back to affect me.

Perhaps I am too selfish for Abnegation.

"Well? Do you?"

I stare at him, at his scarred hands, and feel a lump form in my throat. Then he stands up and leans close to my face, the sickening stench of smoke wafting from his mouth. "Do you?"

_No, I don't. _The lie struggles to come out. I look up at the man and feel my eyes narrow in frustration, feel myself choke on the smoke. He looks back at me, baring his cavity-filled teeth. Does he deserve my lies?

Does he deserve the protection of his own ignorance, that he has taken for granted?

My vision flashes red. "Shut up." I say. "You want to know if I know this criminal? _Yes, _I know him. What are you trying to do? Why are you forcing the answer out of me, digging up the past of someone who is already arrested? Don't push your problems onto my shoulders, you selfish coward. I want nothing to do with this, to do with you."

The man stares at me for a moment, then his snarl widens and becomes more gruesome. "You know him._" _He spits into my face. "Tell me. Tell me!"

He still doesn't get it. He never will. "No." my voice is hardened in disgust, both at myself and at the man.

"You know more. I can see it in your eyes."

"You can see nothing in my eyes." My voice is too loud, and my logical side tells me to try to calm down.

"Tell me. You could save me." he stares at me, eyes full of malicious intent disguised under helpless terror. "You could _save _me!"

I don't stare back at him. My grip on the handles tightens and I turn my back to him.

"You don't deserve to be saved."

* * *

**A/N: Oh wow, Jillian is a bit overreactive. And her selfish attitude would _never_ fit in Abnegation, no matter how much she wants it to. xD**

**Anyway, hope you enjoyed the first chapter and p****lease tell me if I have made any technical mistakes (or other mistakes). I am _welcome_ you, suggestions! :D**

**Feel free to send a review too! ^^ **

**-SidSH**


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